Speed Dating Sherlock
by Pakmai
Summary: There are many ways Sherlock hones his deductive skills, and when it combines with insomnia, he goes to an outlet he discovered during a case. Speed Dating. 8 minutes to deduce his given partner before moving on. No need to get attached. Until he meets an odd girl whose presence distracts him. Sherlock/OC. One-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a one shot based off some idea I thought up one day that sort of amused me. I hope that you all enjoy it! For now I have no plans of continuing it, but you never know.**

 **I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the affiliated characters.**

 **Thanks for reading, reviews/Comments welcome!**

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Evenings for Sherlock are complicated and often lead to questionable decisions. When there is a case, things are very simple and straightforward. He works on the case. It's on the nights that there is no case, no experiment to keep his mind sharp and focused that things happen. On the one hand, evenings provide a great opportunity for him since more people are out on the streets at night and he might be able to test his deduction skills. But on the other, at 221B Baker Street, evenings are quiet times, which make Sherlock restless if there is nothing to occupy him, and no John either since the man insists on getting a solid 8 hours of sleep when there is no case.

Still, there are things Sherlock does which he doesn't advertise or even tell John about. Places he disappears to at night which the doctor might not approve of. For the last month, if there have been no cases on, he has been arranging to test his deduction skills on the fairer sex and test out their reactions. The only place he seems to be able to do this in any sort of contained environment has been a speed dating event at a club across town.

Even the thought of such an event makes Sherlock scoff. Afterall how well could a normal person evaluate a potential partner based off of five minutes of interaction? It was also something he could never tell John because his friend would take it the completely wrong way. He was not there to 'hook up' with any of them, he merely attended as a student of human behavior. He rarely saw the same woman twice and almost never acted like himself.

This night has him walking through the London streets to the club, hands in the pockets of his jacket and the collar of his jacket turned up against the chill in the air. Inside the building it was almost stiflingly hot in comparison, and he quickly shed his coat and scarf, leaving them at a coat check, twiddling with his phone before sliding it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

For his observations tonight he has dressed a little nicer, or at least a little more professionally than the last few times he had been to this event, where he alternately wore clothes to make him seem younger, or more of a college slob. Tonight he chose to go the other way, wearing black slacks and jacket with his snug purple shirt which seems to attract positive female attention when he wears it.

Being a little early, Sherlock stayed out of the way of the others, seeing the way the men and women segregated themselves before the event started, as if not wanting to taint their opinions before the actual interview process – for lack of a better term – began. Five minutes talking to someone about inane things, trying to sum yourself up briefly. Silently, the detective starts to form a strategy to keep the attention off of himself or deflect it as best he can. Afterall, he isn't really here looking for a date.

From his vantage point he can see most if not all of the women who are gathered loosely together, chatting and sizing up their competition for the evening. Most of them are dressed to the nine's with drinks in hand, sending coy little glances toward the group of men. All but one. When Sherlock sees the young woman standing apart from the others, dressed in modestly dressy flats, dark wash jeans, hair pulled back in a simple ponytail with a t-shirt with letter he can't read from this distance, he is intrigued. She must be a friend of one of the others, or forced to come to this event.

Suddenly, he was interested in seeing what he could deduce about this girl once he got a look at her up close. Unfortunately he was distracted from his perusal by the organizer getting onto his microphone and handing out the stick-on numbers for the men and women, before telling them which table to go to in order to start the 'speed dating'.

Being himself perhaps was not the best choice for this evening, as by the time he gets around to the casually dressed girl, he has been slapped once and narrowly avoided a drink tossed his way by a particularly drunk woman whose makeup was caked on to make her appear younger but only made herself appear that much older.

The women in this little dance stay in their own seats the entire night while the men move around, and as Sherlock slides into the seat across from Bachelorette number 9 – according to the card on the table – he notices right away how different she is from the others.

Wide, stormy gray eyes meet his for the briefest of moments almost in surprise before looking down and off to the side a little. A slight pink tinging her cheeks as she fidgets with the card in front of her, having seen Sherlock when he got slapped and had rudely stared until her current man brought attention back to himself. A place where he had kept it for the entire 5 minute conversation. Taking a deep breath, she decides to start since it doesn't seem that the man sitting across from her wants to.

"Hi. My name is Harper. I'm, uh, 23, and a freelance writer, editor and transcriptionist. I don't have the client base enough to focus on just one of them so I guess you could say I have to have a few jobs. But, I get to do all of them from home, or really anywhere I can bring my laptop, so I can travel if I want. Also gives me really flexible hours." Clearing her throat a little, Harper lifts the glass of water to her lips, having been afraid to drink any alcohol. She wasn't sure what to expect and didn't want her judgment impaired. Now she was grateful for that decision. The man across from her was making her a little nervous, despite his intense, beautiful eyes, and his striking and sexy appearance.

"Sherlock, age irrelevant, consulting detective." Sherlock kept his answers short and sweet as was expected of him. Pressing his hands together in front of his face with his elbows on the table, he brushed his lips over his index fingers as he moved his head up and down a little thoughtfully, not thinking about how the motion might draw attention to his mouth. "Interesting." He says after a mere moments' pause, then continues. "Harper. Your parents were probably trying to be unique or different with your name, or they had artistic aspirations for you. You're modest about your work, but you live alone so you either have a small flat or you are doing exceptionally well with your three jobs. You don't come from money, but make wise decisions with it and know how to invest. Your shoes are inexpensive, but your clothes are good quality, functional and easily match with other pieces of your wardrobe, no doubt." He had to smirk now that he saw her up close, since he could see her t-shirt read 'Nerd? I prefer intellectual badass.'

"You haven't put on any extra makeup or dressed up for this occasion so I'm guessing that you were dragged in here at the last minute. Probably by the girlfriend of the organizer, Thomas, who you have an unlikely friendship with. Probably she was friends with you at University in order to get your help since you're probably intellectually superior to your peers. Hasn't broken off the friendship because she doesn't know how, and you barely spend any time together anyway. Except when she needs something from you. You really ought to end that." Sherlock says in his rapidfire manner, looking her over for a few moments. "You are single, but not interested in being here, which means you probably just came off a bad relationship, or you're a lesbian." Word by word, he can see the woman's eyes widen a little, and her perfectly pink lips fall open slightly. For a moment he catches himself almost finding that look endearing on her small, almost delicate features.

"You're a romantic, but your independence is very important to you, which is why you work freelance and made the point of telling me you can work from anywhere. I've seen you looking at those couples here that seem to be getting on rather well, the wistful looks you send them. You want that but you don't think you can find it here." A small frown crosses his face as he considers that deduction, tilting his head to the side as he watches her. "Sorry, I thought I should save us some time, how am I doing?" he asks as he watches her.

Taking a slow, deep breath to gather her thoughts, Harper stares at the man before her for a few moments. "Wow." Is the only thing she can think to say. Which is so intelligent and makes her wince slightly before closing her eyes and dropping her head to stare at the tablecloth in front of her. "That was.. mostly spot on.. You're amazing." Even she can hear the breathless tone to her voice. "You know me better in two minutes than my ex did in a year. I did just come off a relationship, but I dressed like this because this is how I dress. I don't like dressing up to give a guy false expectations about me, which will only hurt us both after he dumps me when he finds out what I'm really like." She says in a quiet tone, her voice catching as she thinks about a few specific incidents. "You're right about Chastity, Thomas' girlfriend. At least, now I think you are. I never thought of it that way before. Maybe I just didn't want to."

Slowly looking up at Sherlock for a moment from beneath her lashes, she quickly looks back down at the table. "Thank you for being honest, and not hiding yourself. A guy who looks like you, you could have tried charming me. It would have been easy, and you probably would have succeeded. But it seems like you're not looking for a relationship here, either." Harper finds she can't help the sad tone of her voice, clearing her throat and sipping her water again for a moment. "So thanks, for the honesty. At least you only have to talk to one more girl before you can leave."

Just one more girl and he can leave. That should have made Sherlock feel better, but for some reason knowing that his time with Harper is coming to an end makes him reluctant to leave things the way he did. This girl was different, and besides John, the only one to think his deductions anything more than annoying. "You're wrong." Leaning forward on the small table a little, the detective ducks his head in an attempt to catch her eye. "You think you're not worth the attention of the men here, that they are so far above you, when the reverse is true. Of all the women here, you are the most interesting, the most unique, and the only one who is real. You would not want a relationship with those men. That is not what they want, they want to shag you." He says bluntly. "And once they have gotten laid, you will never hear from them again. You are worth more time and attention than that." He says sincerely, before the little buzzer goes off and he rises gracefully. "It was a pleasure talking to you, Harper. Truly." He says in a quiet tone before he goes to move off to the last table, not able to help brushing the fingertips of his index and middle finger along the soft skin of her arm as he passes, watching the way the goosebumps rise on her arm and all the way up the back of her neck. He just barely hears the little gasp she lets off, and as he settles down with mask in place, ready to judge this next girl, he wonders if he might have imagined it.

Somewhat irritated through the last interview, Sherlock very narrowly escapes getting slapped again. Probably a good thing, from the look of the woman's acrylic nails. That would be rather hard to explain to John. Swiftly standing when the buzzer goes, he turns to look for Harper only to find her already handing in her card indicating what men she would like to hear from. If they also wanted to her from her, then they would receive eachother's contact information. Looking down at his own blank card, Sherlock marks off Bachelorette #9's name – Harper's spot – before he brings it to Thomas, the owner. It was the first time Sherlock ever handed in his card and had to double check it to make sure he had written down the correct contact information.

Now it was all up to the interesting woman who would either contact him or not. It wasn't a sure thing, but he sincerely hoped he would hear from her, something about her intriguing him, in a similar but distinctly different way than John had first intrigued him when they first met. Not liking being out of control, Sherlock pushes the matter to the back of his mind as he returns to Baker Street. Filed away but not forgotten completely, his mind instead turns back to his experiments.

After two days of nothing, Sherlock's phone chimes with a text and without putting much thought to it, he finally picks it up, frowning at the unfamiliar number until he reads the message which freezes him in the middle of the sitting room.

 _It's Harper. Do you want to meet up for coffee?_


	2. Chapter 2

It had taken Harper two days to work up the courage to text this mysterious Sherlock Holmes. When she had gotten his information from Tommy, there was a personal note from him telling her she was the first person he had ever taken an interest in. No pressure there.

It was true, Harper had been dragged to the stupid event by her 'friend', who had practically begged her. And she had hated it almost all the way through. Some of the guys were nice. There was no spark of interest from her or them, though. That much was obvious. Until Mr. Holmes game along with a gaze so intense she could barely meet his eyes. And when he steepled his hands in front of him, she noted his long fingers before her attention had shifted to his lips.

He really was a gorgeous man.

Which made it more confusing. There was no way that he should have interest in Harper. And, she argued with herself, there was still the possibility he was not really interested in her romantically. Perhaps he just wanted to shag. Which was so not going to happen. Not exactly true, Harper argues with herself. It may happen. Just not on the first date. She's not the type of girl to do something like that.

She was, apparently, the type of girl to wait with baited breath for a guy to respond to a text message, she discovered as she paced across her flat. Not that she was normally like this but she had a feeling that she would be doing and experiencing a lot of different things if she spent any time around Sherlock Holmes.

When her mobile finally beeped, she stared at it for a few moments before approaching it as one might approach an armed bomb. Finally picking it up, Harper let out a breath as she read the message there.

 _Meet me at Noon. Address to follow._

It was an odd message to say the least, but it was definitely a yes, which made Harper nearly squeal with delight, embarrassingly jumping up and down for a moment. Given the time of day, she assumes his message meant in just a few hours, causing her to fly to her bedroom to change and get dressed. The address comes not long after the initial message and when she finds it's not far from her flat, she is more than a little relieved. It also seems to be in a rather popular area which means that it will likely be busy. Another plus.

After a frantic hour of dressing and getting prepared, Harper takes careful stock to make sure she doesn't forget anything before flying out the front door. Given that there seem to be no cabs at this hour, she decides to walk, moving with a determined pace toward the coffee shop, a small growl of her stomach reminding her that she needs to buy a muffin or something as well because the biscuits and tea she had in lieu of a proper breakfast had long since faded.

Arriving at the cafe early means that she can get her food and claim a table toward the corner – a place she can see the entire room from – in order to wait for the handsome man she remembers, hoping her memory wasn't false.

And when the young detective strides into the cafe, scanning the room with his mesmerizingly icy eyes, Harper knows she wasn't mistaken. Sherlock pauses just inside the door to remove his scarf, seeing Harper but heading for the counter first to get some tea which he then takes over to the table where she waits. After taking a moment to remove his long coat, he finally settles his wiry frame on the chair, dressed in a sharp black suit with a white undershirt with the faintest of patterned striping only visible at very close range or in certain light.

"Harper. I was surprised to get your message." Sherlock decides to start off with honesty as he watches her closely, gauging her reaction and general mood.

Smiling a little and not able to control the blush on her cheeks, Harper takes a deep breath. "I wasn't sure if I wanted to. You know, it's one thing to have a conversation at a speed dating event, quite another to talk to someone in the real world, and, well... I'm a bit gun shy right now." She says with a small shrug. Unable to hold his gaze, she drops her eyes to the table in front of her, taking a drink of her coffee before tearing off one of the last pieces of her croissant, using that to keep herself from saying anything foolish.

"Ah, yes. The previously failed relationship." Sherlock observes as he watches Harper for a moment. "Well, rest assured, relationships are not really my thing and most people cannot stand my presence for long enough to form any type of attachment to. I have no desire to form a bond with someone who will demand every moment of my attention and take time away from my work. The Work is what's important to me." he states in a serious tone, perhaps being a little harsher than he means to, but he resents his mind's preoccupation with this woman. Unfortunately this is causing him to lash out a bit.

Eyes snapping up to his, Harper pauses with her coffee halfway to her mouth before she puts it down slowly. "Well, one might wonder why you even agreed to meet me then, Mr. Holmes." She says in a colder tone, hurt by his near-accusation. "For your information, I am an independent woman and not clingy, but I do like a man to be around for conversation and spending some time with, a few times a week. Available for conversation and comfort should something go badly with my day, and I expect him to talk to me about his own problems. That is a relationship." She reminds him, taking a deep breath as she feels tears prick behind her eyes and is reminded why she was hesitating over this meeting in the first place. "I'm sorry. This was obviously a mistake. I'm sorry for wasting your time, Mr. Holmes." She says before quickly getting up, taking her cup and the last of her croissant as she heads for the door before he can seethe tears.

Stunned for a moment, Sherlock sits there, unable to think of what to say, initially. While he expected her to become angry with him at some point and stomp out like she was doing at the moment, he didn't expect the remorse which immediately followed her departure. Frustrated, he gathers his things and heads out the door as he arranges his coat and scarf, scanning the street before he sees her retreating figure and he strides toward her. His longer strides allow him to catch up to her easily and he sighs as he reaches out to grab her arm gently, only meaning to stop her.

"Harper." Sherlock's voice is soft, apologetic even. "My experience with women is limited, and most people in general tend to be idiots and not worth my time. I apologize for my words, clearly they hurt you. While it may have been my intention by choosing those words, I..." He pauses for a moment as he looks at her. "It was only because I found myself rather distracted over the last few days with thoughts of you and anything so distracting is frustrating." He tries to explain as he looks at her, the slight redness around her eyes cutting him more than he thought possible, as much as John's loss of faith in him.

Listening to his little speech was the least Harper could do, she figured, so she listened to his tone as much as his words and watched his expression. There was something so open and vulnerable about him. She found herself believing him and even sympathizing. He – emotionally at least – seemed like a teenager. Lashing out to keep everyone at a distance and keep himself from getting hurt, sacrificing potential relationships. Deciding that this beautiful, complex man may be worth her time, Harper nods a little. "You're forgiven, Sherlock." She says in a quiet tone, using his first name this time to show her sincerity.

Nodding for a moment and yet unsure where to go from here since he is in unfamiliar territory, Sherlock straightens and releases his hold on Harper's arm, looking around at the people passing them suspiciously. "It seems that I owe you a coffee. Perhaps a proper meal. Is that right?" he asks, looking at Harper for guidance.

"Yes, that would be one way to apologize. It's alright, Sherlock. Why don't we go toward the park near here, find someplace to get take away and then eat in the park? People obviously distract you." Harper observes as she looks around, and then she turns and slides her arm through his in what she considers to be a particularly bold move. A small tug gets them both moving and walking toward the park.

Continually shocked by this odd woman, Sherlock allows the contact as he walks with her, eyeing various carts skeptically until he sees one that would be acceptable. "That one. It's the only one we've come across that has fresh food and whose vendor practices proper hygiene. Half of them weren't even wearing gloves! I hope people enjoy all the germs they get with their food." He says with disgust in his tone, but he leads the way to the cart.

Harper just giggles a little at that, glancing up at him. "I would hate to be you. You see too much, Sherlock, is there any way to get your mind to slow down?" She asks as she looks up at him, glancing at the menu of the food truck before she orders something.

For once, Sherlock orders as well and he actually pays after freeing his arm from Harper's grip. "Yes, but it's something my flatmate and society as a whole frowns upon. I experimented with various drugs during University, some of them were very useful."

This answer was not the one Harper was expecting and she stares up at the detective for a moment, "You seem to value your mind so much, I find it hard to believe an obviously intelligent man like yourself would do something so reckless and stupid." She says as she takes her food from the vendor with a brief, polite smile, and leads the way across the street to the small park where they can sit on a bench.

Sherlock seems unrepentant though, just shrugging a little. "My brother and flatmate share your views. But I am a scientist. I was curious about the effects of different drugs and combinations thereof. As I said, some combinations were quite useful." He states before sitting down beside her with his own sandwich that he starts to eat as he glances at passers by.

"But you don't use drugs anymore, do you?" Harper asks seriously as she looks at the man in between bites, since this is a very important point to her.

"What would you say if I told you I was still the occasional drug user?" Sherlock asks as he returns Harper's gaze, eyes steady on hers while his own face betrays nothing.

Sighing a little as she tries to figure out if he really is using drugs or not, Harper looks away. "I would walk away right now, lose your number, and forget I had ever met you. I will not be involved with someone like that."

Looking away as well to glance around and take in their surroundings, Sherlock makes a small sound in his throat and uses a bite of food to cover the brief panic that surprises him at that idea. "The only drug I am addicted to is nicotine, and even then I have been reduced to using patches. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London nowadays." He says with a very slight smirk as he recognizes the same conversation he had with John.

"Good." Harper replies, sitting back in her seat as she looks around as well. "Have you been like this all your life, with the way you can see things and see through people?" She asks as she looks at the detective for a few moments.

Looking at everything around the for a brief moment, Sherlock finally slowly turns to look Harper directly in the eyes so she can see the honestly there. "Always."

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 **Ran across this again and decided to add another chapter, just because it intrigued me. Not sure if it will become a full story yet or not. But I couldn't leave it where it was. :) Hope you enjoy!**

 **Reviews/Comments welcome!**


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